


Not your father

by UndeadFae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: And then proceeds to deny he is their dad, Gen, He's an old man in denial, Jack is a good dad and cares for his kids, i'll add more characters as they show up, idk how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:10:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeadFae/pseuds/UndeadFae
Summary: "I am not your father." or at least that's what they say.Because even if they don't say it out loud, there is something everyone in Overwatch can agree on: they're all a family, and family sticks together. And they'd be damned before they let this crazy bunch of kids on their own.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is a collection of oneshots just for dad Jack (and other dads) and his kids which he denies to have adopted, because everyone could use more family bonding moments. Since I don't know how many oneshots I'll write I'm going to mark this as completed and edit as I write them. I hope you'll like these.

Of all the ways she thought she would go down, being shot because of a sprained ankle was definitely the one she expected the least. And getting said sprained ankle by simply tripping on the remains of a wall because of a miscalculated jump, of all the things, was rather embarrassing. 'Earth open and swallow me now' kind of embarrassing.

Now, in her defense, all of Lena's attention was on the Talon baddies that quite literally popped out of thin air. She half wished they had brought one of the Shimada brothers with them; their ninja training would've come in handy a few minutes ago. There were so many, and it all happened so fast, she didn't have the time to realize what was going on before they were surrounded. Didn't mean they were going to give up now, though.   
Given the circumstances, they were doing fairly well: any enemy Lena missed would be quickly shot down by either Jack's -or soldier 76, as he insisted to be called even after his failed attempt at hiding his identity- pulse rifle or Fareeha's rockets. Even if they were just three people, they could have easily replaced a whole soldiers' squad with their efficiency and skills, everyone perfectly synchronized, Lena and Fareeha only needing to take a quick glance at Jack and an almost imperceptible gesture to know what to do next.

Even if they were outnumbered, thanks to their teamwork, the fight would soon be over. Most of the Talon agents were already down, and the few stubborn ones left wouldn't last long. All in all, it could still be considered a successful mission, they could get home alive and in one piece, with a few scratches and bruises at most. A shame they couldn't bring someone with actual medical knowledge like Angela, it was always better to be safe rather than sorry, but it was supposed to be a relatively simple mission, and there were other more pressing matters that required her attention; should anything happen, Jack's biotic field should've been enough to deal with any serious injuries. Hopefully, at the rate they were going, they wouldn't need it... or at least that was before Lena got distracted, tripped and sprained her ankle like an idiot.

At least she got rid of the Talon agent trying to sneak on Jack to shoot at his back.

On the other hand, she was now injured and on the ground, her pulse pistols lost in the fall, and two enemies who noticed the unfortunate event were already approaching her with their guns loaded. Great, exactly what she needed.

Blinking would be useless if after that she couldn't run away, and a recall was already ruled out, it would just leave her on the damned remains of the wall that was the cause of her current predicament. She still had at least one pulse bomb left, but at that distance, there was no guarantee that she wouldn't get caught in the explosion too. A sprain was more than enough, she didn't need second and third degrees burns as well, thank you very much.

The closer the enemies got, the faster her mind was running, trying to come up with something, anything that could help her, if not to get herself out of trouble, at least to buy enough time for anyone of her allies to come and help. Her first attempts to stand up had been a complete failure, her injured ankle unable to sustain her weight. 

As much as she glanced around, her eyes bouncing from one side to another, almost waiting for a miracle, there was nothing she could do, not even running was an option in her current state.

"Don't even think of moving." Lena yelped as she stared at the barrel of the rifle being aimed at her, the finger of its owner itching to pull the trigger and shoot her.

Was this really how she was going to die? In this godforsaken place at the hand of an unnamed soldier?

She knew the possibility of dying soon existed, given her job and Overwatch's new reputation... she just hoped to be able to say goodbye to all of her loved ones beforehand.

Everything happened too fast. She clearly remembered hearing a shot being fired, and then, the man holding the rifle at her face fell in a puddle of his own blood, the hole of a bullet wound going straight through his head.

His companion didn't have the time to figure out what was going on before the butt of a rifle was slammed into his face with a sickening crunch, and he fell next to the other man with a bloody broken nose.

When she looked up, Jack was standing there, his back facing her, the 76 on his jacket one of the most comforting and relieving sights since that hellish mission started. His tactical visor was activated, and in less than a few seconds, he effortlessly wiped out any enemies left nearby, while Fareeha was soaring the sky, looking for any threat in the distance.

When the tactical visor was turned off, Jack kneeled near Lena, the rifle now resting on the ground.

"Where are you hurt?" Finally allowing herself to breathe, she silently pointed at her injured ankle, and without adding another word, he carefully examined it. Not long after that, Fareeha landed, her weapon still loaded and ready to shot, sparing a quick glance at her companions and a routine 'you ok?'

"I'll live," replied Lena, which was good enough for her, considering she was about to get her brain blown up by a bullet not even less than a minute ago. Satisfied with the answer, Fareeha resumed her guard duty, looking at any possible hiding place in search of more hidden enemies.

"Not broken at least, that's good. I'll call Angela and tell her to be ready for when we come back." After a rather painful poke, Jack stood up, the pulse rifle once again slung over his shoulder as he called the doctor on his comm. 

"Can't you use your biotic field?" The thought of having to deal with the pain until they got back to their base wasn't a pleasant one.

"Takes too much time, we're an easy target here. First we get back to safety, and then we can take care of your injury." He wasn't really wrong. There was no guarantee that more Talon men weren't waiting around there just to ambush them once they lowered their guard.

"Can you walk?" She shook her head in answer, looking around in an attempt to spot her weapons. As if on cue, Fareeha came back, handing over her trusted pistols, and with a quick thank, Lena secured them to her hip once she was satisfied with their condition. There were a few new scratches in the metal here and there, but they were still functioning, and that was good enough for her, at least at the moment.

The rendezvous wasn't that far away, but it would still take at least half an hour before they could get there, and that was when they all could walk. Groaning at her luck, Lena slowly made an effort to stand up, doing her best to put as little of her weight as possible on the injured ankle. It would be a looooong walk... well, at least that's what she expected. Out of nowhere, Jack picked her up, ignoring her embarrassed squeak as he carried her bridal style.

"What? Were you really expecting to get anywhere with that injury?" His tone may have sounded as gruff and serious as always, but she could swear there was a bit of worry slipping into it. Her confused look soon turned into a bright grin, and then into giggles.

"Can I get at least a piggyback ride?"

Jack stood there for a moment, looking at the giggly girl in his arms, and she could almost hear the gears in his brain moving as he wondered if he really heard that right. A shame the visor covered his face, that would've been quite the sight.

"Lena Oxton, you are a 26 year old woman, not a child."

Some muttered swears later, Jack found himself piggybacking a still giggling 26 year old child. Even Fareeha looked amused at the sight, but at least she was trying to hide it. She did get a quick picture, though, figuring the rest of Overwatch would like to see too.

"Thanks, dad." 

"I am not your father." Despite the somewhat annoyed tone and the tired sigh, there was an unmistakable fondness in there too. She playfully stuck out her tongue in answer, and then they were finally moving, tired, covered in blood and dust, but they all would get back home together, back to the bunch of weirdos that somehow became their family. A family they would never trade for anything else in the world.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter ready for a while but I am Not Confident At All about it, so I hesitated to post it. I'm just a bit worried about the characterization, so please do tell me if anything seems wrong :s

With a tired sigh, Gabriel took a sip from his cup, grimacing at the bitter cold coffee before setting it on the desk. At least the thing made its work just fine. Now, if he could just finish his own work and go to sleep at a decent hour, that would be wonderful.

Being away on a two weeks long mission and with no one taking his place, the paperwork and reports waiting for him in his office had been piling up. A dreadful sight for a wounded man who just came back from a gruesome battle.

You'd think the secret branch of an international military organization wouldn't have so much paperwork and files, and Gabriel was still wondering just why the hell they had to go through so much bureaucracy just to get their hands full of the shit no one wanted to deal with. In times like these, being the boss really sucked.

Internally whining, however, wouldn't get his job done, so he gave up and picked the first file from the pile. And so Gabriel went on for hours, signing forms, reading reports and putting everything where it needed to go to be filed later, until he almost dozed off on the next report. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he decided to call it a day and get at least a few hours of sleep at the unholy hour of 23:35. And that was one of the good things that came with the job of commander: he could do pretty much whatever he wanted, including deciding his own schedule, without having someone yelling at him for slacking off, or, as he prefered to call it, rest like any other person in their right mind would do.

Standing up, he stretched his back and arms, sore from staying still in the same position on a rather uncomfortable office chair, until he heard a satisfying pop. He could swear the office work could easily wear him out faster than any mission, and that was saying something- and no, he wasn't getting too old for his job, dammit, he could still effortlessly supplex a man twice his size, no old man could pull a stunt like that without breaking half of his bones in the process... unless said old man was Reinhardt, who actually seemed to grow bigger and stronger as he aged.

Calmly pacing the halls that lead to his bunk, he took in his surroundings; with the frenetic routine of the organization and the constant fights, there was hardly the time to stop and just... think. Reflect on lots of things. The present, the past, the future, morality, deep stuff like that. Gabriel wasn't one to spend time musing over some philosophical shit, but he did like to simply take the time to appreciate what he had. It wasn't the prettiest job on the face of the Earth, or the cleanest one, but it was helping people, even if they didn't know it, and even if most of them wouldn't approve of it. Someone had to do it, and he just happened to be the best suited man for the job. He wouldn't mind getting a statue like Mr. Pretty Boy, though.

What really mattered to him, though, were his men in Blackwatch. Not the ones who came from the academy, eager to throw away their lives for the sake of making the world a better place and didn't care about the glory and bla bla bla- of course he did care for them, they were his responsibility after all, but they could easily get out of there and back into Overwatch if they ever wanted to, they didn't have any real problem holding them back.

The ones he cared about the most for were the troubled ones, who already went to hell and came back leaving part of themselves, if not everything, behind. The ones who looked like they were already walking corpses, who got into big trouble and were running away from a dark past. The ones who were considered absolute trash and completely worthless by the society. The ones who would never get a second chance, a chance to redeem and retrieve the life they threw away while they waited for hell to claim them.

Some of them turned out to be just as bad as people said they were. Those weren't worth his time, prisons existed for a reason. There were a few, however, who got dragged kicking and screaming -and even bleeding sometimes, like a certain cowboy he knew- into Blackwatch, begrudgingly agreeing to join following their survival instincts, not expecting to find redemption, a better cause to fight for... and sometimes even a family.

Those were the ones who made all this job worth it.

His train of thought was abruptly stopped by a soft sound coming from one of the nearest rooms. Staying still and alert, he waited, even if he wasn't sure what he was waiting for exactly. When he almost attributed it to his mind playing a trick on him, there it was again. He heard that sound too many times before to not recognize it. A sob. It was barely audible, but it was there.

It didn't take long before he pinpointed the exact room from where it came from, and when he did, Gabe couldn't suppress a curse. It was Genji.

Opening the door as quietly as he could -and that was another advantage coming with his position, having the permission to access every room in the base-, Gabe slipped in, closing the door behind him without a sound. Genji didn't even realize he was there, curled up on his bed and still trapped inside his own nightmare. With a tired sigh, Gabe approached him, taking in the tears staining his cheeks, the hair soaked in sweat, sticking to his forehead and the distress on his face, fully visible now that he took off his faceplate; he was muttering something, and even if Gabe didn't know more than a few words in japanese, the pleading and terrified tone along with what little he could understand was more than enough to know what was going on.

It wasn't a nightmare. It was a memory.

"Wake up, kid." Genji didn't hear him, still caught in his own hell, and Gabe got as closer as he could while still keeping enough distance between them to back off if he lashed out, silently thanking the SEP augments that sure came in handy in moments like these. "C'mon kid, you have to wake up!"

And sure enough, after a few more attempts at getting Genji to wake up without raising too much his voice, he finally snapped out of the hellish memory, eyes frantically darting around the room without focusing on anything but looking for the threat as his hands looked for a sword that wasn't there.

"Hey hey hey, it's ok, it's ok," raising his hands to not appear as a threat, Gabe kept talking with the most calm and soothing voice he could manage. "It's ok, that's in the past, you're safe here." His words soon brought Genji back to the present, his wide eyes finally focusing on the man in his room.

"C-commander...?" Gabe sighed in relief, unfazed by the bright red eyes shining in the darkness. Maybe months ago it would've frightened him, but he got used to it. It wasn't like the kid could do anything about it.

"It's me, don't worry, it's ok. Whatever you saw, it wasn't real, it's in the past." His words seemed to have some effect on Genji, who took deep breaths, trying to calm down. "That's good, take it easy." After a while, Genji was still clearly shaken, but at least wasn't panicking anymore. He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from his sweat, trying to think about something else than the memories haunting him.

"Thank you, commander. I apologize for the inconvenience." He quickly bowed, talking as if he didn't just have to revive the worst event in his life, trying to repair the cracks in the walls he spent so long building around himself, and Gabriel barely suppressed a sigh.

Dealing with this kid and his sheer stubbornness was exhausting him.

It was very frustrating.

With an annoyed groan, Gabriel firmly put his hands on Genji's shoulders, and despite his apparent aversion to the touch, the kid barely flinched, his eyes studying the commander's face, the frown still on his face.

"Listen, kid, I know you went through something terrible, and I can't pretend to understand how you're feeling, but if you keep up this act, you'll never heal." His voice was much lower and softer when he spoke again. "Let me help you."

Genji was silent, his face still and unreadable as it always was, letting the words sink in. Then, he lowered his gaze, the movement accompanied by an almost imperceptible whir, a constant reminder of what he was now. When he looked at Gabriel again, there was something different in his eyes, and for a brief moment, he smiled. There wasn't any happiness in that smile, but it wasn't a fake one either. It was a start.

"I'll... I'll think about it..."

Satisfied with the small accomplishment, Gabriel playfully ruffled his already messy hair, ignoring the weak protest.

"Think you can go back to sleep now?" Genji hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, going back to his bed as Gabriel made his way to the door. It didn't take long before he once again fell asleep, still tired from the long day and the unpleasant night.

Before completely closing the door, Gabriel heard a soft murmur in a foreign language, and after a moment of thinking, he remembered their meaning, and he quietly chuckled.

"I'm not your father, kid... but you're welcome."


End file.
